


Still Mad

by 0rigo



Series: The Way You Say My Name [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aged Up, Cum Play, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, Katara just doesn't want to feel her own feelings, Masturbation, Threats of Castration, Zuko sucks at love confessions, feelings suck, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0rigo/pseuds/0rigo
Summary: Katara likes spending her nights alone; bending under the moon. She just wasn’t expecting to overhear someone else up, or to confront them on it.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Way You Say My Name [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158647
Comments: 36
Kudos: 153





	Still Mad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FictionVixen97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionVixen97/gifts).



> I don’t even know anymore okay? This was supposed to be a scene for a completely different fic and now it’s become this monster of a scene that doesn’t go there apparently. Should I spend the time to set up how they’re older and what not? Yeah, probably. But at this point I just don’t want to look at it anymore. So they’re at least 19/17 respectively. This is dedicated to FictionVixen97, she knows what she did, I hope it lives up to the hype.

The Westren Air Temple is quiet late at night. Katara prefers it this way. She doesn’t have to worry about the others on nights like this. Nowadays it is the only time she really gets to herself _for_ herself. It’s just her, the waxing moon, and the water in one of the many fountains scattered through the buildings. Being a little tired in the morning is a sacrifice she is more than willing to make to enjoy this.

Dressed in only her wraps, Katara allows all her worries and fears to fall away as she bends. Right now she is only this. There is no war, no fear, just the push and pull of the moon and the water. She is simply the conduit. Going through all the movements, pushing herself further and further; it helps her reach an inner peace that Katara has never really known before now. Now that she can answer the call of the water around her she feels _whole_. Sometimes she stays up for only a short while and other nights she’s there until the moon sets.

Tonight the moon has just started its descent towards the horizon as Katara winds down. She floats in the water, face up, watching the stars. Out of all the fountains and water features of the Air Temple, this one is her favourite. Nowhere else is she able to be immersed in both her element and the moonlight so completely. Sometimes she wishes she could just spend the night there, sleep floating under the moon and the stars. That would be a bad idea though. This is _her_ spot and if she started spending the night she knows someone would end up finding her there. Katara wants to keep it to herself as long as she can.

Sighing, she pulls herself out of the water. It’s time for her to head in for the night.

With a quick flick of her wrist Katara pulls the water off of herself and tosses it back into the fountain. Beginning the walk back to where the rest of the gang are sleeping, she drags out the journey as long as she can. Tomorrow is going to be another long day of dealing with everyone and at the rate Katara is going she’s going to burn herself out. Katara is lying to herself. It’s not _everyone_. It’s really just _one_ person, but she is refusing to acknowledge that. She’s gotten rather good at ignoring the complicated feelings that _someone_ inspires in her. Maybe later she will be ready to work through them, but not tonight.

Lie. It’s _always_ not tonight.

The stone corridors are peaceful as she moves through them, absently making a list of the chores she needs to do tomorrow. Now that the size of their group has doubled it feels like the work is never ending. Sometimes Katara just wishes that _anyone_ would actually _help_ keeping them all fed, clothed, and housed. She tries not to go down that line of thought too often, especially now. Before she just got bitter and angry about it, now though…well, there has been _someone_ who’s been trying. Just not someone she’s willing to acknowledge right now.

At first Katara doesn’t notice the sounds; she is too caught up in her own thoughts and they are too faint for her to make out. It isn’t until she is in the temple proper that she realises that, no, it isn’t just the wind she’s hearing growing steadily louder. It’s a good distraction from her previous musings that she'd rather ignore though; so Katara slows her pace down further to try and figure out what the noise is. It takes her a bit, but once she spends a moment to really pay attention, it hits her.

She knows she should just ignore the heavy breathing, the slick sound of flesh on flesh, the masculin grunts that were clearly trying to be muffled. Katara is no stranger to what those sounds mean. Whoever it is has taken the effort to go to one of the far rooms in the empty Air Temple, clearly trying to get some privacy for some _personal_ time. And she really was going to ignore them; she was going to keep walking away and pretend that she didn’t hear any of it at all.

But then she hears them groan _her_ name.

And that stops Katara in her tracks.

Because she knows that voice.

 _Zuko_ is masturbating as far away from the group as he can, thinking about _her_ while he does it.

At first Katara is so shocked that she just stands there listening, trying desperately to wrap her head around the whole thing. She’s having a very hard time believing that he would even think about her _like that_. He’s out here, thinking of her and _touching himself_. He is…he’s…

That _bastard_.

The anger and embarrassment—no, _humiliation_ —quickly replaces her shock. How _dare_ he! After everything that he has done, after everything he has put her through, after all of _that_ , he goes and has the fucking nerve to think of her like…like…like _that_. She is shaking with rage at just the thought.

Katara is going to _kill him_.

She turns on her heel and starts stalking towards where she can clearly hear him. Through her rage every noise he makes sounds impossibly loud. The sounds he is making are echoing off of the stone walls. Every breath, every groan, every slap of flesh is a new insult for her to bear. Not even thinking to muffle her footsteps, Katara moves through the halls hell bent on making him sorry he ever even laid eyes on her. Righteous indignation fills her and she ignores all other feelings that are starting to swirl in her stomach.

Tui and La, there’s a _lot_ of conflicting feelings in her.

It doesn’t take long for Katara to find him. Even if she did take a few wrong turns and had to backtrack twice. There is no other light besides that of the moon filtering in through the windows and archways, and if she didn’t have the sounds of his … _activities_ to follow she never would have even noticed the small room tucked away in the forgotten corridors. It’s practically a closet.

Katara barely takes a step into the small space before she freezes in her tracks. Her mouth goes dry and all the words she wants to scream at him lodge in her throat. She may have seen him shirtless before—an unfortunate reality of fire bending practice—but for some stupid reason Katara hadn’t thought that she was going to see _all_ of him when she confronted him. And right now, standing barely three steps from him and fuming, she’s getting quite the eyefull.

Zuko is far too gone in his pleasure to even notice her walking into the doorway. Wearing nothing but loose sleep pants that are pushed halfway down his thighs, his bare back is pressed against the far wall of the small room. His left hand eagerly pumping himself with abandon while his right is clenched hard against the stone. Katara can’t help but notice how toned he is.

His face is all scrunched up, eyes closed tight and it almost looks like he is in pain. Little puffs of smoke are starting to curl up from his parted lips every time he exhales and Katara can feel the heat he’s throwing off from where she stands. Zuko is definitely no longer the gangly teen that chased them all over the world. With his taut muscles, throbbing erection and unconscious bending she would almost call him attractive. If she didn’t hate his guts that is.

Lie. She doesn’t _hate_ him.

“Fuck yes...” Zuko’s voice is starting to get louder, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s talking. “Katara…”

His cock is glistening with pre-cum, she can see drips of it trailing off his fingers. Zuko’s clearly been going at this for a while now and with how his breath is starting to hitch Katara gets the feeling that he’s close. She can’t pull her eyes away from his cock. Can’t stop the realization that it’s long and a decent thickness. Katara hates him all the more for it.

Lie. She hates _herself_ for noticing.

“Say my name,” Zuko practically moans, clearly lost in the fantasy and unable to be quiet any longer. “Come on Kat, say it for me.”

Katara’s eyes narrow, her rage is back with vengeance. Her whole body is shaking in anger at his words. She finds her voice again and for the first time ever she actually does what he asks. Her words leave through clenched teeth, dripping with vitriol, “Zuko, what the _fuck_?!”

She is _not_ aroused. She _isn’t._

_Lie._

Zuko’s eyes snap open, wide with panic at her voice, but it doesn’t stop his other reaction to hearing her. She watches his stomach muscles clench, his hand giving his throbbing cock a final stroke, and he comes _hard_. Heat splashes against her exposed midriff and up her chest and Katara freezes at the sensation. Zuko’s cock keeps twitching and he lets out the oddest mix of conflicting sounds. It starts off as the most satisfied groan of pleasure she has ever had the misfortune to hear that trails off into a mortified, high-pitched whine.

Neither of them move in the aftermath. The only sound is Zuko’s heavy breathing as they stare at each other. Zuko, wide eyed and fearful, Katara, blinking and trying not to scream. The moment stretches for an uncomfortable amount of time. Zuko’s eyes slowly lower to her chest and then to her stomach. His cum is starting to cool as she feels it slowly drip down her skin. He grunts and his slowly softening cock twitches again.

Katara’s shock is starting to wear off. Her breaths are coming deeper and the tremble is returning to her limbs. She stares at Zuko’s face as he watches his own jizz slowly slide down her skin. He bites his lip and his eyes are losing the wide, panicked gleam. Without thinking, Katara’s eyes shift back to his cock, he’s starting to get hard again. He’s getting fucking arroused at the sight of his _cum on her skin_.

That. Fucking. _Bastard_.

She’s so _confused_ and _angry._

Katara shifts her weight, left foot sliding back and her arms lifting into the start of a basic bending form. She’s going to take his fucking face off with his own damn jizz. Katara has never tried to bend cum before; but there is always a first time for everything and he _deserves_ it. Zuko notices her shift and the look of panic is back on his face. He ducks just as she flicks her fingers and the now frozen shards of his cum shatter against the stone where his head was a moment before.

“Fuck!” Zuko is desperately trying to pull up his pants and tuck his dick back in them as he rolls to the side. He manages to get the fabric half way up his ass before he needs both his hands to block Katara’s next volly of ice knives. His flames manage to melt the ice back to a liquid that just splatters over his arms. Some lands in his hair from the sheer force that Katara has bent it. Zuko doesn’t manage to raise out his half crouch before he’s trying to talk.

“Katara, I—” he holds his hands up, pleading with everything he’s got. “Please just calm down okay?”

That just makes her angier.

She’s done with people telling her how to _feel_.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?!” Katara fingers twitch with the need to strangle him. “You just _jizzed on me!_ ”

Zuko swallows, his voice is the most timid she’s ever heard it, “I _really_ didn’t mean to—”

“ _Didn’t mean too?!_ ” she feels dirty; cheap and used. Katara is so furious she can’t even focus on bending, her hands gesturing viciously with her words, “You—you were thinking about me while doing _that!_ ”

_Why?_

Zuko seems to have lost his voice and hangs his head, refusing to look at her now. Oh, so now he’s ashamed of what he did. That’s it, she’s _done_. She’s done with him, him and his stupid fucking _everything_. Aang may need a firebending teacher but Zuko doesn’t need all his bits to do that. She’s going to fucking castrate him, right fucking here and now.

Katara grabs all the moisture in the room and _pulls_.

Zuko’s head snaps up and he’s moving as fast as his falling pants will let him. Katara lunges and swipes with the ice on her hand. He barely manages to dodge, shifting his lower half out of her reach just before she manages to take a good chunk of his manhood off.

“ _What the fuck!_ ” his voice is back now, high pitched and frantic. He’s half bent over trying to hold his pants up with one hand the other held in front of himself to hold her back, “Agni, fuck, just wait!”

The sound that comes out of Katara’s mouth is closer to a screech than anything else. She’s striding forward for another attack that Zuko barely manages to fend off. He manages to twist out of her reach but not without injury. Blood is flowing down his forearm from where the ice sliced him. Katara doesn’t care; she can fix up any life threatening injury he sustains during this process _after_ she cuts his damn cock off.

Another swipe from her and it seems like he gets the message. Zuko is on full defensive now, trying to get around her to the entrance to the small room to escape. Katara is having none of that. She manages to give him a few more good scrapes, tear his pants, and leave an impressive gash along his abs. He tries to reason with her through the whole debacle, but his words fall on deaf ears.

“Katara! Please stop!”

“I’m _sorry!_ ”

“I’m fucking sorry okay!?”

“Fucking, Agni! Calm the fuck down!”

Katara lunges again, but this time Zuko is done with simply deflecting her blows. His hand wraps around her wrist and he uses her own momentum to spin her around. Her back slams into his chest and his other arm wraps around her middle, pinning her other arm down. His skin feels feverishly hot everywhere it touches hers. Before Katara can force herself free he’s picked her up and pinned her face first into the wall.

They’re both panting hard but that’s where the similarities end. Katara is trying to break free anyway she can, violent thrashing and bucking in his hold. If she could turn her head enough she’d bite his damn throat open. Zuko just holds her steady, letting her wear herself out. He’s done talking now. Katara screams and rages, every hateful thing she can possibly think of spewing from her lips. There’s a panic in her now.

Zuko doesn’t respond, barely moves at all. He just silently takes her abuse, her fear, and lets it crash over him like waves on the shore. Uncaring and unmoving. He doesn’t press his advantage. Before she knows it there are tears burning in her eyes and her violent thrashing has become weak. The heat of him is all around her and she barely has the strength to keep fighting him while crying. The warmth of him is almost comforting and that just makes it _worse_.

He’s not supposed to be _comforting._

Once she is full on sobbing Zuko pulls them off the wall. He doesn’t release his hold on her though, just shifts her so they are both more comfortable. Katara still tries to push him away, he just grabs her hands in his much larger one, firmly but gently, and tucks her further into his embrace before gracelessly lowering them both to the floor. Her face is pressed into his bare chest and she _hates him so much right now_.

 _Lie_.

She hates how makes her _feel_.

Zuko keeps holding her and it’s just making her cry harder. Katara is basically curled up in his lap. The torn fabric that was once his pants is barely hanging onto one of his legs, and his congealing blood and come is smeared over both their arms and now chests. Zuko shifts, she can feel him lift his arm like he was going to cradle her head, but it just hovers for a moment before going back to her shoulder. After that he doesn’t move it all. It’s awkward and awful.

Katara isn’t sure how long they stay like that. Her crying slowly runs it course until all that’s left is the occasional sniffle or hiccup. If it wasn’t for Zuko’s still rapidly beating heart beside her head she would have thought he fell asleep for how still he was. Katara is still angry at him, but she just doesn't have the energy to do anything about it any more.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is soft as it puffs through her hair. “I never meant to … _disrespect_ you.”

His words rumble in his chest and Katara really just wants him to let her go. Even if he is warm and she doesn’t think she could stand on her own right now anyway. She has no idea how to respond to him, so she doesn’t. This time when she pulls her hands back from his hold he lets them go without resistance. She can’t even clean the tears and snot off of her face cause her hands are still covered in the melted mess that she had tried to cut him with. Katara tries to wipe her palms clean on her wraps but the sticky fluids have dried too much. Maybe bending his cum hadn’t been a good idea, it’s everywhere now.

“I get that you’re really mad at me right now, and I really fucked up so I deserve it,” while he doesn’t raise his voice it’s definitely gaining speed. “And I really am so sorry. I—”

“I’m dirty.”

Katara doesn’t want to hear his excuses. She just wants this to be _over_. Her interruption seems to have derailed his train of thought and he sputters at her words. Katara ignores that too. She’s really good at ignoring things when it comes to him.

“I need to wash,” her words are flat, toneless things. All she can smell right now is his blood, come and _him_. It’s seeping into her skin and she needs it _gone_.

Something in her voice must have got to him as with that he shifts her out of his lap faster then she was expecting. He helps her stand up, and she doesn’t fight him on it. Thankfully as soon as she’s stable on her feet he releases her and takes a faltering step back. Katara sees him wrestle with his ruined pants to cover himself before she turns away from him. She’s officially seen more of him then she _ever_ wanted to.

More _lies_.

Katara doesn’t wait for him and starts walking away. He curses softly behind her but doesn’t follow immediately and for that she’s thankful. It would be better if he didn’t follow at all but at this point Katara doesn’t have high hopes for _anything_ good where he’s involved. Zuko’s awkward shuffle is slow to catch up with her; confirming her suspicion that he would follow her.

They walk in silence towards the fountain that Katara uses for the washing; he keeps a few paces behind her the whole way. She wishes he wasn’t there so she could just strip off her soiled sarashi and jump in. Instead she steps into the knee deep water and picks up the soap she left on the edge of the fountain to dry early that day. Zuko pauses at the threshold of the room, clearly not knowing what he should do with himself.

Continuing to do her damn best to ignore him, Katara submerges herself in the water. She stays under longer than necessary. The water on her skin is calming though and right now she needs that. When she surfaces, Katara immediately starts scrubbing at her skin. She needs to get her hands clean first so she can wash her face properly. Hopefully the stains in her wraps are fresh enough that she will be able to pull the fluid out with the water. The numbness that settled on her after sobbing her eyes out is starting to fade.

Katara’s still not sure which is better.

She hears Zuko shuffle behind her. He does that _stupid,_ stuttering, throat clearing thing that means he’s working himself up to say something else. Some things just don’t change.

“Katara, I—”

She tosses half the fountain on him.

The water swells up and crashes over the retaining wall, sweeping through the open space like a tidal wave. It’s a sloppy job; pulling piles of laundry, dried dinner dishes, and anything in its way that’s not nailed down with it. Zuko stumbles under the onslaught but the wave doesn’t have enough force to knock him down. He sputters, pants barely clinging to his hips. The water settles through the room, a few inches deep before slowly starting to drain away. He looks like a drowned possum-rat.

“You’re disgusting.”

With that Katara turns back around and goes back to scrubbing at her skin. She can hear the water dripping off of him but Zuko doesn’t move. Starting to feel a little better now that the worst is off her, Katara has half a mind to pull the last of the water up off the floor and dump it on him again. Maybe ice it first this time, help him _cool off_.

“I deserved that.”

She turns her head to look at him over her shoulder. Zuko is pushing his shaggy hair back from where it was plastered to his face. The water is already starting to steam off him and only the gash on his chest looked like it was still sluggishly bleeding. His face is doing something weird, like he can’t decide if he’s contrite, exasperated, or mildly amused. If Katara wasn’t still debating whether or not to drown him it might have been entertaining.

But she was, so it wasn’t.

Zuko catches the look on her face and once again raises his hands up in surrender. He takes a step forward and opens his mouth to say _something_ but Katara interrupts him with another torrent. This time she puts a little more force in it and chills the water as much as she can without letting it freeze. The sound of him breathing in through his teeth as the water hits him is like music to her ears. Zuko manages to keep one hand up in front of him, but goes down on one knee to hold himself from being pushed out of the room. One of the dinner dishes smacks into his head and a few hit his back this time around, while some of the dirty laundry catches on his outstretched arm. He’s back to coughing and sputtering.

Katara can’t help but smirk at the sight. It was getting entertaining now. He really shouldn’t have followed a pissed off waterbender to a fucking _fountain_. No one ever said Zuko was smart though, determined maybe, but not smart. It takes him a minute to catch his breath and straighten up. This time his hair is completely covering his face and when he finishes pushing it out of his eyes he has his good one screwed up tight. He detangles what looks to be a pair of Sakka’s pants from his arm. Zuko uses the now soaked cloth to wipe his face and hands clean before dropping the now soiled pants. They flop into the water covering the floor with a splosh.

“Okay, I deserved that too,” Zuko is waiting to see what her next move is going to be as best he can out of his bad eye.

Facing him properly now Katara just crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. She is not going to make this easy for him. He sighs, taking her pose to mean he’s safe to stand up properly. Katara is finding it hard to keep hold of her re-found rage when he doesn’t respond to it properly. All the anger and distrust for him is still there, always bubbling right under her skin, but the need to castrate him has fallen to the wayside. He always just … _takes_ whatever she throws at him and it’s getting harder to tell herself that he deserves it. So she simply holds in her stance, silent demanding an explanation for what the fuck happened back there.

Zuko’s face is still screwed up all funny, and he’s clearly having a hard time seeing. He still doesn’t open his good eye and Katara is fighting hard to resist the urge to roll her own. This man is _ridiculous_. Katara gives him a pointed look, eyebrow still cocked, and gestures at his face. He swallows visibly.

“It… it got in my eye,” his face flushes awkwardly, voice close to cracking.

Katara tries not to show her confusion on her face but it’s probably a lost cause. Her exasperation though, she lets that come out in her voice in _spades_ , “ _Water?_ ”

“No, uh…” his face is almost as red as his pants now, it’s the most embarrassed she has ever seen him. Zuko looks positively mortified that she’s making him say … whatever he’s trying to. He licks his lips, gestures awkwardly down at his crotch then to his face, “My ....”

Katara’s eyes go wide. His jizz. She washed his _own cum_ into his eye. Her lips twitch. Zuko is still trying to finish the statement, but he can’t manage to get any more words out. All at once the situation that they’re in hits her and Katara can’t help herself now. The twitch of her lips slowly turns into a full blown smirk and an amused snort pushes its way out of her.

“Your own _jizz_ ” —Katara is doing everything to fight back the laughter— “is in your _eye_.”

The look on his face is priceless. It sends Katara into hysterics. Her laughter bubbles up in her throat and she can’t do a damn thing to stop it. At first she tries to cover her mouth, keep the giggles from spilling out ― she’s _mad at him_ ― but as soon as he starts looking at her like _she’s lost her damn mind_ she can’t hold it back anymore. There’s fresh tears forming in her eyes as she doubles over, unable to control herself. Her laughter echoes through the room so loud it completely covers the soft burbles of the fountain.

Unable to stand properly, Katara sinks to her knees. She’s now waist deep in the water and laughing like a madwoman. Every time she thinks she’s able to pull herself back under control she takes one look at Zuko, standing there awkwardly with his face all screwed up and shuffling, and she loses it all over again. Her stomach is in stitches, tears are streaming down her face, and she’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

By the time she is able to get control of herself Zuko has walked over to sit on the edge of the fountain. The corner of his mouth is twitching, like he’s not sure if he wants to smile or frown at her. Giggles still force their way out of her throat, but it’s nowhere near the full blown belly laughs from before. Zuko gives her a look she can’t decipher before he shifts and bends down to wash his eye out. The action causes another small riot of giggles to punch their way out of her. He looks like shit.

Katara takes a moment to compose herself. She washes the tears off of her face and shifts so she’s leaning against the fountain’s edge, still waist deep in the water. She has no idea where to go from here. Zuko is now sitting facing her, watching her to see what she’s going to do next. His one hand is applying pressure to the cut that’s still bleeding while the other is absently trailing patterns in the surface of the water. There’s still streaks of tacky blood on his arms and chest.

“You’re still filthy,” Katara’s voice echos oddly; she didn’t mean to talk so softly to him. It causes that twitch in his lips to finally decide what it’s going to be and the shy smile that graces his face is almost charming.

 _Lie._ It _is_ charming _._

“Yeah,” Zuko’s voice is husky and he doesn’t stop staring at her in that odd way.

The whole thing is doing something very weird to her insides. Her stomach is fluttering, her chest feels tight, and she’s pretty sure that awful blush is working its way back up her cheeks. Katara has no idea how to deal with any of it. So she does what she does best when it comes to feeling that aren’t hate and anger when dealing with this impossible man and ignores them completely.

Zuko’s only warning for what she does next is the smirk that she can’t hide. Quick as a whip, Katara leans forward, wraps her hand around his wrist and pulls. It’s the first time she’s voluntarily touched him without the intent to harm since he joined them. Clearly not expecting it, Zuko tumbles face first into the water. He flails for a moment, trying to orient himself before he’s able to get his legs properly into the fountain and under himself. With one hand he grabs the stone edge and pulls himself up, the other pushing off of the tiles below. Zuko gasps and sputters as his head breaks the surface of the water. He _definitely_ looks like a drowned possum-rat now.

They still need to talk; she still needs him to explain what the hell all that was. But Katara’s tired of being angry all the time with him. It is exhausting having her guard up every moment and right now, after laughing at him for at least a solid five minutes, she doesn’t want to pop this odd little bubble of calmness between them. So she tosses the washcloth she was using at his chest where it sticks with a wet plop. Then she follows it up with the soap; it smacks into the water in front of him, splashing him.

Zuko looks down at the cloth on his chest then back up at her. It’s his turn to cock an eyebrow in query. Katara simply gestures for him to hurry up. He opens his mouth—clearly about to say something—before shutting it, and shakes his head instead. Pulling the washcloth off his chest, Zuko sits up properly and fishes the soap out of the water before it floats out of his reach.

Katara doesn’t say anything while he soaps up and starts scrubbing at his arms. She watches as he opens up some of the scabs covering his forearms while he does. Blood drips into the water and Katara doesn’t feel guilty about it in the least. He’s doing his best to not look at her for the whole process. The soap clearly stings every time it comes in contact with his injuries but he’s doing a good job of pretending it doesn’t. He only flinches when it comes to the one under his ribs, and even then Katara wouldn’t have caught it if she didn’t know what to look for.

After he’s done, Zuko rinses the washcloth before ringing it out and placing it on the edge beside the soap. Katata pointedly does _not_ notice the way the muscles in his forearms flex or the tendons in his large hands shift while he does so. He closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. There is no smoke or sparks when he exhales. The fact that detail sticks out to her makes her insides twist. When Zuko opens his eyes he shifts, mirroring her position leaning on the fountain’s rim. He doesn’t move closer to her and she’s relieved he’s keeping his distance.

But somehow ... disappointed?

They’re staring at each other now. Katara lets her eyes wander over him. Zuko is ignoring the blood that’s slowly seeping from his stomach; it dilutes in the water quickly. He should be putting pressure on it, even if she knows it’s not life threatening in the least. The cuts on his arms have stopped weeping now, though they still look raw and angry. She does her best to keep her assessment focused on his injuries but it doesn’t stop her from acknowledging the rest of him. The way the water beads on his skin makes her fingers itch with an odd need to touch. Her stomach is starting to do that fluttery thing again at the sight. Katara forces herself to stop and look only at his face.

Zuko is already staring into her eyes. Katara has no idea how long he’s been watching her look him over, but from the odd expression he’s got it’s been longer than she’s really comfortable with. The tension between them is charged with _something_. It reminds her of when they were under Ba Sing Se, but stronger now, more complex. His eyes finally break away from hers and that awkward look of his is back.

“So…” his voice trails off, clearly uncertain where to go next but ending the moment nonetheless. Katara’s not sure why, but she’s sad that it’s over.

She waits for him to continue but the silence stretches. It’s awkward this time, expectant. Katara rolls her eyes and sighs, “This is the part where you explain.”

“You’re not going to attack me again, are you?” Zuko looks like he’s trying to decide if he’s amused or about to bolt.

Katara shrugs. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Zuko watches her every movement out of the corner of his good eye. She’s really not so sure herself at this point and it really depended on what he had to say. When she doesn’t elaborate further he sighs. Katara rests her chin on her knees and waits.

“I… uh…” Zuko licks his lips nervously and looks away again. His fingers start tapping on the ledge where his arm is resting out of the water. He’s refusing to look at her now.

“Which, uh…” He coughs awkwardly. “ _part_?”

Zuko doesn’t catch the exasperated look she’s giving him at that. He could jack off thinking about her, come all over her, but couldn’t even say the word masturbate or jizz? Her irritation at him is coming back, “Oh, I think you know.”

Zuko sputters at the tone and has the decency to at least look contrite. He’s clearly fighting the blush that’s coming back but he at least manages to look at her again. She shoots him an expectant look. When he still doesn’t say anything, Katara lifts a hand and mimes jerking a cock. _That_ makes him lose the battle against the blush and his face flushes a deep red. He groans and buries his face in his hand.

Katara was really starting to get tired of his embarrassment with the whole thing. _He_ wasn’t the one that got fucking jizzed on by the person he was angry with. She straightens up and glares at Zuko, hand smacking the water roughly, “Tui and La! If you don’t just come out and say it I will freeze this fountain solid with you in it!”

That gets his attention. Zuko lowers his hand just enough to return her glare, “Say _what?_ Admit that I found a quiet place away from everyone to fucking jack off? You caught me there. Admit that, yeah, I was totally thinking of fucking you while I did it? _Obviously!_ ”

He’s on a roll now; his voice raising in volume and he’s starting to gesture with his hand to emphasize every new confession, “You want me to just come out and _tell you_ that it’s not the first time I’ve done it? Okay, _fine_ , It wasn’t! That I jack off thinking about you all the time? _Yeah, I fucking do!_ That just _thinking_ about you _smiling_ at me gets me hard? _Because it does!_ That I think you’re the most amazing, strong, beautiful woman I’ve ever met? Well, you are! You’re fucking _everything_ a guy could want!”

Katara’s eyes are wide. She has no idea what to do with these things Zuko is telling her. The frustration that was running through her is giving way to shock and she can feel her jaw slowly drop with each new confession that he angrily spits from his lips. He’s starting to bend unconsciously again, the water in the fountain is starting to heat and she can see it start to steam off his skin.

“You want to know that I’m mad at myself for making you hate me? That it _kills_ me to know that you’ll never forgive me no matter what I do _and that I deserve it?!_ ” there’s sparks on his tongue and he’s just shy of yelling now. Zuko’s eyes have gained a frantic gleam as he pushes on, “That I know dreaming about you is the closest I’m ever going to get? And then how much I feel like _shit_ when I do cause I know you’d hate me _even more for it?_ ”

Zuko is breathing hard, practically gasping for breath as he stares Katara down. It’s clearly dawning on him what he just admitted. He swallows and looks around the room frantically before hanging his head in his hands. Katara watches his shoulders slump in defeat and barely catches the next words he mutters into his palms, “Admit that I think I’m falling in love with a woman who hates me? That I would give anything for you to just _once_ say my name without contempt?”

Once again Katara’s world comes crashing to a halt. She’s too stunned to breathe, let alone move. There’s an odd rushing sound filling her ears making it hard to focus on anything. His words are rattling around in her head but they don’t make any sense at all. There’s just no way … he can’t …

He’s falling in love with her?

He _likes_ her?

_What?_

Katara tries to not gape like a fish at him; she’s not exactly doing a very good job of it. He’s still face first into his own palm though so he probably doesn’t notice much of anything. She’s never had her emotions twisted around this fast in her life. Katara forces herself to _breathe_. She reaches out a shaky hand towards him. If she could just see his face, make him look her in the eyes when he said it… Katara needs to know if he really means all those things. Before she’s even close to touching his arm to pull his hand back he starts to jerkily turn around.

“A—and now you know all that so you probably hate me even more now. So I’m just gonna go now before you come to your senses and _really_ murder me this time,” Zuko’s words come out in a mortified rush. Steam is pouring off of him now. He starts trying to climb out of the fountain with the least amount of coordination Katara has ever seen from him, “You know what, I’ll just do you the favour and go fling myself off the cliff, okay? You won’t ever have to see my ugly face ev—”

“Wait,” Katara’s voice is barely a whisper. This is all just moving too fast and she has no idea what to do with _any_ of this. Zuko doesn’t seem to hear her so Katara sloshes forward and grabs the first part of him she can reach. Her fingers wrap around his wrist and she’s thrown by just how warm he is.

Zuko instantly freezes at the touch. One leg still in the water, the other at an odd angle on the other side. His pants look like they could fall apart at any moment and the strain of the position is not doing them any favours. It looks awkward but he doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps his face turned away from her.

“Did you mean it?” Katara’s heart is pounding in her throat and she’s never been this nervous in her life.

Zuko swallows audibly and shrugs, trying his damnedest to feign a nonchalant attitude, “Yep, That cliff is _definitely_ calling my name.”

“ _Zuko_ ,” she doesn’t know if she’s pleading or exasperated but she needs him to turn around _right now_ and answer her properly. Somehow she manages to get that across just by saying his name. The grip she has on his wrist tightens and he slowly turns his head so he can look at her.

His eyes are blown wide with terror and he looks like he is a moment away from either bolting or having a full blown panic attack. Zuko gulps again, opens his mouth and promptly snaps it shut. He’s starting to look nauseous. An odd high pitched whine forms from the back of his throat that sounds like it was supposed to be a question.

“Did you mean it?” Katara asks again, her voice a little stronger this time. She needs to hear him say it.

Zuko doesn’t answer, doesn’t move. He just stares helplessly into her eyes. Katara is desperately searching his face for _something._ She gently squeezes his wrist, trying to coax anything out of him at this point. His eyes quickly flash from her hand to her face several times. Again his mouth opens and closes with no sound coming forth. The moment stretches, only the fountain burbling filling the emptiness between them.

Then Zuko nods.

It’s a jerky thing, like he’s afraid of moving at all. He seems to have stopped breathing as he continues to stare down at her waiting for her reaction. Katara still doesn’t think she really has one for him, so she just continues to stare right back. They stay there, locked in the moment, neither one knowing what to do next. Zuko’s legs start to shake from the odd position he’s in, finally breaking their silent staring contest as Katara shifts her gaze to his trembling thighs.

“Sit down,” Katara releases her hold on his wrist to give his trembling thigh a soft push. She has no idea what they’re doing now but she continues to simply push forward.

Zuko plops down on the stone rim instantly. He looks shell shocked. Katara shifts herself closer, so she is kneeling in front of him. He’s still bleeding all over himself but he doesn’t seem to notice it at all. Zuko just keeps looking at her like the world doesn’t make sense anymore. Sighing, Katara gloves her hands with fresh water and reaches for the gash she gave him earlier. She has no idea why she’s even doing this. Zuko doesn’t flinch away from her as she begins to heal him, He just watches her silently. Katara tries very hard to not think about what his stomach feels like under her fingers.

Toned, tight.

_Nice._

“I’m still mad,” she leaves the ‘at you’ unsaid.

Zuko nods, his voice tight, “Figured.”

“And I’m still freaked out about you...” —Katara refuses to look up at him, keeping her eyes glued on the muscle she was knitting back together— “jizzing on me.”

He blushes, she can see it spilling down his neck. Zuko’s pale complexion makes it far too easy to see his embarrassment. He’s still sitting there woodenly, like he is afraid that he would spook her if he moved.

“Completely understandable and I really am _so_ _sorry_ ,” his words come out a little easier than the last. Still stilted, but earnest.

Katara sighs and tosses away the dirtied water. There is barely a red mark on his pale skin, and she knows even that will fade by morning. Pulling new water to her hands Katara gestures for him to hold out an arm for her to continue. Zuko hesitates.

“You…” he’s giving her that look again, the weird one that she has no clue what it means. “You don’t have to heal me. It’s okay.”

“It’s helping me stay calm while we talk about this,” she reaches out again for him. “So hand it over.”

Katara ignores the small smile that’s tugging at the corner of his lips as he holds out an arm. She feels like an idiot. She should be hitting him, yelling at him, or at least walking away, not patching him up. This stupid, awful, insuferable, attractive man always makes such a mess out of her emotions. Being around him like this was the emotional equivalent to riding the Omashu mail service. She needs to get this dealt with so she can be somewhere, _anywhere_ , where he wasn’t.

“Putting aside for a moment the, uh, _feelings_ part…” Katara takes a deep breath and forces herself to keep talking, ignoring his awkward cough. “What caused you to…”

“Blow my load all over you when you yelled?” Zuko’s voice is dry and full of self loathing. But he _is_ able to actually talk about it now apparently. At this point, Katara will take what she can get.

Katara looks at his face quickly before turning back to finish up working on his arm. She still can’t handle him staring at her while talking about this apparently. Licking her lips she continues, trying hard to make sure her voice doesn’t waver, “ _That_ and after … when you looked at it … you were getting hard again.”

Swearing under his breath, Zuko buries his face back into his free palm, “Of course you fucking saw that too.”

“Yep.”

She’s done healing the scratches on the arm in her hands but she doesn’t reach for the one he’s currently hiding behind. It’s probably easier for both of them that way. Katara drops her hold on the water and his arm, waiting for him to pull himself together enough to continue.

“You wouldn’t, ah, let me get away with saying it’s _really_ fucked up,” —Zuko’s voice is muffled by his palm but she can understand his words well enough— “and _I’m_ really fucked up and I know you aren’t going to like it, so maybe just ice me to the ceiling and we call it good on that one?”

Katara can’t help the exasperated sound that slips past her lips at that.

“Yeah I didn’t think so,” Zuko sighs, slowly pulling his hand down along his face. He drops his arm so it’s listlessly lying across his leg. He looks resigned to his fate now, “Short version?”

She nods, giving him this small concession before reaching for his other arm to start the healing process. Katara is pointedly not looking at any other part of him now. With what he says next that determination doesn’t last long.

“Okay, um,” he takes a deep breath, looks dead ahead and lets it out.

“I was probably muttering at that point so… you know what I was, ah, _thinking_ about. So then you said my name and well…” Zuko gestures with his now healed arm, crudely miming ejaculating. He sneers at himself and continues, “So I guess you now know that you calling my name is a _major_ fucking turn on and does it for me. Then I got to watch it _land all over you_ and my brain just…

“You just stood there, practically naked with my come on your skin and, _Agni_ , all I could think about was that it was _mine_ ,” his voice is getting rougher and neither of them seem to notice that she’s stopped healing him; water now forgotten and fallen back into the fountain. Zuko is looking down at her like he wants to _devour_ her and Katara can’t look away. He reaches out a trembling hand, almost touching her cheek but stopping shy, “That I had just fucking painted you with my pleasure and I wanted to fucking _rub it into your skin_.”

Katara’s mouth goes dry at his words. She’s breathing hard; she feels hot all over. Never in her life has she been more aware of another person. Zuko’s hand is still hovering, she can feel the heat rolling off of him. Part of her wants him to take that final inch, to place his hand on her face and do … _whatever_ he’s so desperate to do. The other half though is screaming at her to backhand him as hard as she can and _run_.

It’s like he can see everything going on in her head written on her face because he takes a deep breath and pulls back as if she did smack him. Zuko quickly pulls his leg from the water and slides himself down the rim of the fountain; making sure he isn’t towering over her and that his lower half is turned away. He’s shaking and breathing hard. A puff of smoke curls from his lips as he tries to compose himself.

“Oh,” the word slips out oddly, like she’s all twisted up inside and doesn’t have any breath to form words properly. Katara has no idea what to make of what just happened, to make of _him_. She’s getting whiplash with how fast his moods change. For how fast _hers_ are changing.

Zuko props his elbows on his thighs, hunched over and pointedly not looking at her, “Yeah, ‘oh’.”

She’s completely off kilter now. It takes Katara longer than she’d like to admit for her to realize what he was doing, or what _had_ happened. For a moment it felt he was about to kiss her, the heat of him was enveloping her and she could practically taste his need. Then he was just _gone._ She’s cold in the water now; oddly more disappointed than relieved.

And _that’s_ throwing her for a loop. She should not be disappointed in the least. Katara is supposed to be angry at him. She is, by Tui and La, she is _furious_. But at the same time, there’s that odd little flutter in her stomach that she gets when he’s around and he keeps saying all these things that make it _worse_. It’s too much this time, she can’t ignore the way he’s making her feel anymore. She needs to stop running from this; needs to finally confront this once and for all.

Katara licks her lips, “Turn around.”

That makes him sit up straight. He looks over his shoulder like she’s gone crazy. His voice cracks, “ _What?_ ”

She pulls herself up out of the water to sit on the edge of the fountain; straddling it like he had moments ago. Her pulse is racing and she’s pretty sure she _has_ lost her mind, “If you want me to even consider forgiving you then turn around right now!”

Zuko’s eyes go wide and he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest. He scrambles to twist back around, flinging his leg back over the edge to splash noisily back into the water. His hands end up resting on the stone in front of him, blocking what Katara really wanted to see. They’re both still breathing heavy and she feels like she’s going to snap from the tension between them.

Katara’s eyes flick between his face and trying to see past his arms. She’s pretty sure Zuko has caught her looking, but he’s still just staring at her with wide eyes like he’s still not sure that this is happening but terrified of making the wrong move. Biting her lip, Katara leans forward. She needs to _know_. Katara’s having a hard time getting words past her heart hammering in the throat so she reaches a hand out to move his arms instead of asking.

She can feel the heat he radiates before she touches him. As soon as her fingers make contact with his skin Katara hears him take a deep breath in through his teeth. Zuko is tense, muscles hard beneath her hand. Katara lifts her gaze to his. His eyes are locked onto her’s, shining with too many emotions for her to understand. Katara gently pulls his hand away. He doesn’t relax, but moves his arm along with her so she doesn’t have to use any force at all. His free arm mirrors the action, exposing himself to her.

She lets her eyes slowly trail down his form. First to his mouth, lips slightly parted as he practically pants in front of her. Second to his neck, still flushed. Lower still to his well toned chest, rising and falling with each breath. Then his stomach, where his muscles are flexed so tight she can see them practically rippling with tension. She had never really noticed the fine dusting of dark hair that leads down from his belly button. Katara follows it down to where it disappears under his pants then finally to the junction of his thighs.

Zuko’s cock is hard, straining against the mangled material of his pants. Katara can’t help herself, she just stares at it. She’s trying to come to terms with the fact she knows what it looks like and that she wants to see it properly again. Arousal is starting to pool low in her belly, she feels hot and cold at the same time. His lower abs relax and flex again, causing his cock to twitch. The sound that comes out of Katara’s mouth at the sight is closer to a whimper then she would ever admit to.

His free hand wraps gently around her other wrist. She hadn’t even seen him move, too focused with admiring him. Zuko’s grip on her is loose, she could easily break his hold if she wanted to and that puts her at ease. This time it’s him asking her with his hands to move into a new position and he gently pulls her closer. Katara goes willingly; shifting along the stone rim, letting him pull her in. Their knees touch and she can feel his breath on her face. Too nervous to look at him, Katara can’t raise her eyes past his chest.

Zuko releases his grip on her wrist and starts slowly running his hand up her arm. If it wasn’t for the heat that his skin throws off Katara would barely be able to feel it. Every brush of flesh is tentative and shy, like he’s afraid she’s going to come to her senses at any moment and push him away. She should, she should just get up and leave _right now_. Katara doesn’t move though. For how messed up and terrifying this whole thing is, he’s lit a fire in her belly and Katara wants to see where it goes.

His hand pauses once he reaches her shoulder. Zuko shifts his thumb and she can feel it brush along the edge of her collarbone. His hand covers so much of her skin at once. It makes her feel small. Back and forth his thumb moves, a little bit closer to the hollow of her throat each time. Zuko doesn’t push her any farther than that. Just that maddeningly light caress leaving sparks along her skin.

Katara realizes he is letting her make the next move. It’s clear what he wants, the proof of his desire is still right there in front of her. His erection hasn’t flagged at all. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders if it’s uncomfortable, the way his cock strains against his pants. She needs to stop looking at it while he’s touching her like this.

She moves herself a little closer to him, shifting his hand without meaning to. It now rests on top of her shoulder, closer to her neck. Zuko stops moving his thumb and leaves it just barely touching the slope of her neck. Katara forces herself to not think about any of that right now and takes the opportunity to touch _him_.

Mirroring his move, Katara loosens the hold she had on his wrist and drags her hand up his arm. She’s not as gentle as he was. Pressing her hand to his skin, she lets herself enjoy the feel of his muscles tense beneath her palm. When she reaches his bicep she squeezes it, feeling the coiled strength under his skin. Zuko groans, long and low at the attention. He flexes for her, encouraging her to squeeze it again. She does before moving on. His thumb starts moving again, this time climbing up her neck to brush her ear and then back down again.

Before Katara had done her best to ignore how his chest and stomach felt beneath her fingers. Now though, now she _wants_ to feel it. Another squeeze to his shoulder and she’s moving her hand, trailing it across his collar to his chest. His skin is barely damp and fever hot under her touch; there’s steam coming up from where his leg is still in the water. The hold he has on her shoulder tightens and this time when his thumb moves he drags firmly it along her skin.

Katara has clearly lost her mind now. That’s the only explanation for what she’s doing. She brings her other hand up to rest on his chest too. This dichotomy of their skin is oddly enjoyable. Her hands look small splayed as they are across his chest. Katara watches his throat bob and then his other hand is on her thigh. Her breath hitches and she stops exploring his chest at the touch. Katara’s chest feels tight and her heart feels like it's trying to jump out her throat. They’re on the edge of _something_ once more and Katara doesn’t think she can handle if it goes wrong again.

Zuko’s hand on her shoulder moves, slides along her neck and then his fingers are under her chin. Again he barely uses any pressure, like he’s asking for her to move, not demanding. Zuko is much better at letting his actions speak for him than he is at using his words. Katara lets him lift her head up so he can properly look at her face. She can’t bring herself to shift her gaze from her hands on his chest though.

Katara can feel him staring at her. She doesn’t know what he’s looking for or if he finds it but she feels like she needs to say _something_. Zuko has already spilled his heart out to her and she still doesn’t know how she feels about everything he said. All Katara knows for certain is that this feels like it was a long time coming and she both wants it and is _terrified_ of it happening. She needs him to understand that.

“I’m still mad,” the words taste differently this time. Katara _is_ still mad at him; still hurt and angry. Though she definitely doesn’t _sound_ mad, even to her own ears. Even with him tilting her face up to his she can’t bear to look him in the eyes. She manages to raise her gaze up to his lips and no farther. They quirk into another of his barely there smiles.

“Figured,” his voice ghosts over her skin. The echo of the conversation may have the same words, but this time Zuko says his part tenderly. His thumb softly rubs her bottom lip, “Still freaked out too?”

Katara’s not sure how to answer him. Her hands are trembling on his chest and Zuko is both too close and too far away at the same time. He hasn’t moved his thumb off her lip and the hand on her thigh is almost scorching. If this goes on much longer it feels like she’s going to combust in his arms.

“Yes,” she closes her eyes against his searching gaze, lips tingling as they brush against the pad of his thumb, “...no?”

Zuko hums in response, like he gets what she’s _trying_ to say. Which would be impressive as not even _Katara_ knows what that is. She feels him shift a little closer, his legs sliding against hers so that they gently press her knees to the stone. Katara could still easily push him away, back into the water and make a break for it. She doesn’t though, Katara just _lets_ him touch her instead. The hand on her thigh is slowly inching up until his fingers brush the edge of her wraps on her hip. She can feel every breath he takes puffing across her face now. Zuko practically has her caged in at this point.

He moves the hand under her chin so he can cup her jaw in his palm. Zuko’s fingers reach back along her neck and he doesn’t take his thumb off her lips. The calluses on his hands are rough against her skin even if the touch is gentle.

“Look at me, please?”

It’s how he says the word ‘please’ that gets her. Soft spoken and tender but full of yearning. Katara opens her eyes slowly, afraid of what’s going to happen next when this moment of in between ends. Zuko’s face is very close to hers now. When she finally brings her eyes up to his he steals her breath away.

His pupils are blown wide, the molten gold of his irises now just a ring around them. They’re full of desire and _want_ , but at the same time tender. It feels like he is pinning her still with just the look alone. His thumb brushes her lips again. Zuko looks like he is a breath away from his control snapping. Like he wants nothing more than to close the distance and kiss her like his life depends on it.

“I… it’s…” Zuko’s ability to speak seems to have failed him now that they’re looking into each others’ eyes. He closes his own for a brief moment and takes a deep breath. This time when he opens them and looks at her he looks determined to get his words out right, “I’m not going to do anything else unless you tell me it’s okay to.”

That sparks something in her. Katara is relieved, she _really_ is, but at the same time though she doesn’t want to say it. She _can’t_ admit out loud that she wants him. If he would just lean down and kiss and touch her the way they both clearly want him to then she can still be mad at him later. She _needs_ to be able to still be angry at him.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll let go right now,” Zuko’s voice is firm even as she can feel his body straining with need. “Let me know I can keep touching you or tell me I can go farther but _Agni_ , Katara, you gotta give me something. Because no matter how much I want this, I _refuse_ to force myself on you.”

The heat is building in her, right along with her frustration at herself. Katara can feel tears starting to form in her eyes and she’s so fucking _confused_. How can she want to kiss him until her lips are swollen and freeze his stupid ass to the ceiling at the same time? How can she want to just stay in this moment, not having to make a decision either way and still have his hands on her? How can she still be mad at him when he goes and says things like that? How can she forgive him after what happened earlier? _Why did it have to be_ _him?_

“And what if I don’t know?” her voice is trembling just as hard as she is now. The tears in her eyes are threatening to fall at any second.

Zuko doesn’t have an answer for that. Instead he moves his hand so he can catch the first tear that slides down her cheek. Katara can’t help but to close her eyes again, letting the rest of them fall. He wipes them away with his thumb as his fingers tangle in her hair.

Katara tries to slow her breathing down, to calm herself. She knows she has to say it. She knows that she just has to tell him. So she focuses on the feel of the cool water lapping at her calf and his too hot hands on her skin, follows his example, and lets all the twisted up feelings tumble from her lips, “You… you make me so _confused_.

“I don’t want you to stop, but I’m terrified of what happens next and I’m still _so mad at you._ If you make me say I want this then _how_ can I be angry with you? Don’t make me say it, I _can’t_ ,” it’s her turn for her voice to crack. “I’m not ready to forgive you.”

Zuko’s rubbing soothing circles on her thigh and his next words are exactly what she needs to hear, “You can want this _and_ still be angry at me. It’s okay to be both.”

Katara looks back up into his eyes, “You really mean that?”

He smiles at that, that little twitch at the corner of his lips that Katara is starting to like seeing far too much, “I really do.”

Breathing is easier now, the weight of expectation lifted from her lungs. Katara returns his smile with a shy one of her own. The tension between them has shifted, still there but now it’s becoming enjoyable. There is an electric undercurrent in her skin everywhere they touch. She feels it building stronger the longer they stare at each other. They’re both slowly leaning towards each other. Katara bites her lip and his eyes latch onto the motion hungerly.

“Can I kiss you?”

She watches the words form on his lips, mesmerized by the motion. Katara can only give him a small nod; he’s stolen her voice again. The hand that was on her thigh moves to her waist, gently pulling her closer still. His hands are trembling. Zuko tilts her head and closes the distance slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. He pauses, giving her one last moment to change her mind, then his lips are sliding over hers and Katara is lost.

Zuko kisses her slow and tender, like he has all the time in the world and he’s going to use it to do this _right_. Kissing him back is far too easy. Katara’s not sure when her eyes slipped closed or if the little breathy sounds were coming from her or him. Her fingers twitch on his chest, desperate to clutch him closer. When Zuko gently nibbles on her lower lip and then sucks on it Katara can’t hold back a gasp. His hand gently cradles her cheek, he slips his tongue into her mouth and kisses her deeper.

Katara whimpers into his mouth, sliding her tongue along his tentatively. Moaning in response, Zuko starts trailing his hand across her side. Gaining confidence, Katara follows his tongue with her own past his lips. His touches are more sure on her skin now, working in tandem with his mouth to coax more little sounds out of her. He seems to be making it his personal mission to pull as many of them from her as he can.

When he finally releases her lips with a last suck to her bottom lip, Katara thinks her head is spinning. She has never been kissed like that before. He barely pulls back; gently rubbing the tip of her nose with his own, letting their breath mingle between them. Opening her eyes slowly, Katara can only stare into his.

Zuko is looking at her like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen in his life; a little dazed, panting hard, and unable to stop the silly smile from curling at the corner of his mouth. Between the way he is rubbing little circles on her skin with his thumbs, how his heat is sinking into her, and the way he looks at her like she is something incredible, Katara was going to do something _very stupid_. If her heart starts beating any faster she thinks it will burst. She shouldn’t be this affected by a damn kiss.

“You are, by far, the best thing I have ever tasted,” Zuko says it softly, with a raw honesty that makes her chest feel tight. If she didn’t know him better, Katara would think he’s trying to be smooth. But this is _Zuko_ ; the guy couldn’t even say hello right half the time. He drops a whisper soft kiss on her lips and nuzzles her again.

This stupid, impossible, treacherous, irritating, adorable, _sweet_ man is going to make her fall in love with him if he keeps this up.

“ _Zuko_ ,” she breathes his name far too tenderly for being someone she’s angry with.

Katara feels the change in him as soon as his name passes her lips. He sucks in a deep breath and freezes, his hands tightening almost painfully on her skin. Not sure what’s she done wrong, Katara pulls back enough to properly look at him. Zuko’s eyes are blown wide and he’s staring at her like she just did the impossible.

Katara lifts a hand off of his chest to cradle his scarred cheek. He’s starting to freak her out. Her voice is timid as she gently strokes the edge of the burn, “Zuko?”

He groans loudly and he’s back on her instantly. The tenderness is gone, replaced with desperate need. The hand that was cupping her cheek so gently before is now fisted in her hair. He uses his grip to tilt her head so can kiss her deeper. It’s sloppy, too much teeth and tongue for it to be anything but. This time it’s like he really is trying to devour her. Every breath he exhales on her tongue tastes a little more like smoke then the one before. The gentle, tender Zuko that kissed so sweetly has been replaced with something feral. Katara can only hang on to his shoulders and try to keep up.

Zuko pulls her head to the side and his mouth is moving across her jaw, searing a path to her neck. He dips his head and licks her from the hollow of her throat, up along her shuddering pulse to the side of her neck. Then there’s teeth and suction and Katara moans. When he exhales she can feel embers dance harmlessly across her skin. He has breathed _fire_ into her. Ignited her and now a raging inferno is in her belly and it’s almost too much. His hands are everywhere, firm and demanding; dragging along her waist, hips, back.

Zuko lets go of her hair and both of his hands are sliding under her knees, lifting her legs up. He repositions them quickly so they rest on top of his own before grabbing her ass and pulling her into his lap proper. With him forcing both their legs wide, her center comes to rest directly on his throbbing cock. He grinds into her immediately at the contact. Katara thought the rest of him was too warm; his cock pushing against her feels like hot iron fresh from the forge. The wraps between her legs are soaked with more than just water and she can smell both of their arousal on the air now.

His teeth are back on the junction of her neck and shoulder and he _bites_. Zuko’s tongue feels like fire where it presses into her skin and her world narrows down to just that one point. It _hurts_ but at the same time it makes her tremble and moan loudly. It’s all too much, too fast. Katara is a ship lost at sea, tossed in a storm, and there is nothing she can do to save herself. She is going to drown in this man.

“Zuko, w—” Katara’s words are stolen from her again when his teeth sink further into her shoulder and he grinds into her hard. Nails digging into his skin, she can only cry out wordlessly to the ceiling and wait for the moment to pass. His jaw slackens its hold on her shoulder before he starts nipping and licking a path up her neck. One of his hands finally moves on from its tight grip on her ass to slide up her back.

A flash of heat along her spine, a loud hiss of steam and then the smell of burnt fabric is the only warning Katara gets before her chest bindings fall. His hand spans the distance between her shoulders as he pulls her flush with him. The feel of his bare chest hot against her breasts forces another whine from her throat. She needs him to slow down, to stop; she needs to _breathe_.

Katara manages to tangle her fingers into Zuko’s hair and pull his head back while pushing on his chest. He groans at the pressure and goes willingly. Smoke is steadily curling up from his parted lips. His eyes lock onto her exposed chest and the grip he has on her ass tightens. He looks like he is a moment away from dipping his head and latching his lips on her breasts.

“Wait—Zuko, please,” Katara hates how small her voice sounds but with everything she doesn’t have enough breath to be louder or more insistent. She can only manage these little gasps between her heavy breaths as she trembles, “Stop. Too much. It’s—too much.”

In his current haze it takes a moment for Zuko to understand what she is saying. The instant the words register in his head though his hips freeze; no longer grinding into her with abandon. Zuko rips his gaze away from her chest to stare in terror at her. His hands lose their tight grip on her skin and Katara thinks she can see his world collapsing in his eyes.

“ _Oh_ _Fuck,_ ” his voice is hoarse, broken. “Katara, I— _Agni_ , I fucked up again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking _sorry,_ ” Zuko licks his lips and shifts beneath her, making sure his cock isn’t pressing into her. It’s like he’s afraid to touch her now. He tries to slide her off of his lap without holding her, “I didn’t— _Agni_ , I _forced_ you. Fuck I just—”

Kissing him is still easy. Katara just pulls herself back up onto his lap and using the hand still tangled in his hair, brings his face close enough for her to press her lips to his. It’s not tender or sweet but neither is it as rough as what they had just done. It takes him a bit, but eventually Zuko responds tentatively; his hands a little more sure on her waist but still not holding her tightly.

Katara deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue past his lips. She should be agreeing with him; she _should_ be tossing him into the fountain and freezing it solid. Instead she’s kissing him desperately while telling herself that he doesn’t make her heart ache or light a fire in her belly. He wasn’t supposed to be so passionate, so sweet. She wasn’t supposed to like this, like _him_.

When she pulls back, Katara doesn’t go far. Zuko’s eyes blink open and he looks completely bewildered at what just happened. She holds his head steady and this time it’s her turn to talk through the confusion, “You didn’t.”

“But I—”

She cuts him off with a short kiss, “You didn’t. It was just … fast. Too fast.”

“But you sa—”

Another kiss, “I said stop, and you did.”

Zuko is still looking confused and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else ridiculous. It’s like he _wants_ her to be mad at him for it. Katara just kisses him again; slower, taking her time. She doesn’t stop until he kisses her back, a little more sure now. When she pulls away they’re both breathing heavy. Katara can’t help but give him a small smirk, “I’m pretty sure you’re only arguing with me so I shut you up with kisses.”

Zuko gives her the biggest smile she’s ever seen from him, “If that’s how you’re going to get me to shut up from now on I’m _definitely_ going to argue with yo—”

“Zuko.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”


End file.
